


hold me through my nightmares

by Areiton



Series: Find Me In the World [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fear, Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Nightmares, POV Derek, Panic Attacks, Phone Calls, Pre-Slash, Protective Derek, Slow Build, Well adjusted Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:34:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: He has John, two blocks and a quick phone call away, ready and willing to show up at his son’s house to sooth away the nightmares.And he called Derek, four hundred miles away anduseless.





	hold me through my nightmares

He wakes to the sound of wind whistling past his window and the call of owls in the forest. He wakes to the sound of his phone buzzing and the rustle of bedsheets and his heartbeat tripping.

He wakes confused and fumbles to answer, panic gripping him the way it always done when he’s yanked out of sleep like this, a leftover from the years with Laura and in Beacon Hills.

“Derek,” Stiles whimpers, and he jerks upright, reaching for his jeans.

“What’s wrong?”

He makes a shuddery noise, something like a sob, and Derek closes his eyes.

They haven’t called much. It’s been months of texts and emails sprinkled through with phone calls that always stick with him for too long, feel too heavy, matter _too much._

But this.

He has John, two blocks and a quick phone call away, ready and willing to show up at his son’s house to sooth away the nightmares.

And he called Derek, four hundred miles away and _useless_.

The itch to leave, to find him, to pull him close and snarl away everything that could hurt him burns in his blood like the change, and he shivers.

“Breathe, Stiles, c’mon. Breath for me,” he murmurs as Stiles gasps for breath and sobs.

“I can’t,” he pants. “I _can’t.”_

His heartbeat is all over the place, fast enough that Derek feels a pang of worry. Stiles is gasping and Derek snarls, “ _Stiles, breathe.”_

There’s enough alpha in his voice, enough a remnant of his old life that it works, and Stiles drags in a sharp breath.

“There, you’re ok,” Derek murmurs, slipping back into the soothing murmur. “Just breath, sweetheart.”

Stiles hiccups out a sob, but he does as he’s told, breathes until his heartbeat evens out and is steady, breaths until it’s slow and even and deep. Until Derek thinks, he’s slipping off to sleep.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps out and Derek huffs.

“We said we wouldn’t do that. No apologizing for the scars.”

It was Stiles idea. They both came with so much damage, it seemed like more than just a good idea--it seemed like triage. Acceptance seemed like the only way for this new thing to survive the baggage both of them carried.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Stiles whispers, and Derek hums.

“What can I do?”

There’s a long moment of silence and then, “I wish--”

Derek waits, patient.

“I wish I wasn’t so scared,” Stiles says in a rush. “I wish I could just--let go. I’m so afraid that I’ll fuck this up, fuck _you_ up, and I can’t do that, I _won’t do that.”_

His heart is pounding and his mouth is dry. Because--

“You said you didn’t want to see each other.”

There’s a long moment of silence and then, “We left because the Wild Hunt took me. They took me and my Dad forgot me, and I should have died. We _all_ should have died. Fucking--they took the entire town, Derek.”

He takes a shuddery breath and Stiles pushes on. “And it was our fault. Mine and Scott’s and Allison's. Because we fucked with the Nematon and we dragged open that door and the Hunt rode right through it. I ran because it wasn’t gonna stop. It was never going to stop.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, softly and he laughs, this high hysterical noise that hurts him to hear it.

“It’s me, Der. Don’t you get it. I’m the one still standing, all that darkness is on _me,”_ he sobs, “and I don’t want that near you.”

“Stiles--” Derek starts, “That’s--it doesn’t work like that. You _know_ it doesn’t. You and your dad have been fine since you left Beacon Hills.”

His silence is heavy and stubborn and Derek huffs. “Do I get a say in this at all?”

“Yes,” Stiles whispers. “When I’m not fucked up by nightmares, of course you do.”

Derek smiles and says, “Then ask me tomorrow night, what I want.”

Stiles is quiet for a long time, and Derek feels his heartbeat slowing, settling to match Stiles, until the younger man is asleep.

Then he stands and sends John a quick text.

 

_ >> he had a nightmare. Take care of him tomorrow. _

 

He smiles and dresses, because he won’t be sleeping anymore tonight.

When his phone rings the next night, the sky is dark, and he can’t hear the wind or the owls, just his blood rushing in his ears, a roar that drowns out everything but a familiar heartbeat.

He smiles at it, at Stiles’ name illuminating it, and stares up at the dark new moon night from Stiles’ roof, when he answers.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [Tumblr](http://areiton.tumblr.com/). You know you want to.


End file.
